I do not own Twilight.
He swallowed the last bit of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat and into the acid. He knew where she was. Not in his arms, for sure, but with that bastard that stole her from him. He threw the bottle, letting it shatter against the wall and slumped back in the chair, the room spinning.
Too much whiskey and very little food.
He snorted. He hadn't ate proper, often skipping meals since this started. She always made sure he ate well. Hell, if he wasn't the owner of the company, he'd be unemployed by now.
He closed his eyes, letting himself picture her face. Something he hadn't allowed himself in days. Her beautiful red hair falling in waves to her waist, big brown eyes staring at him from a gentle, kind, loving face. He sighed softly, the woman in his mind smiling at him brightly, happy to see him.
And then he came crashing back to reality. She'd left him. Just up and left. Leaving him in the dark. He could still remember that day like it'd been just yesterday that she'd left, instead of months.
It had been a rather nice day for rainy Seattle. He had planned a romantic trip for two to the coast with an engagement ring in his pocket. He had a whole speech prepared; a million different things he wanted to say and do. All for her. It was always all for her.
She came home from work, gloom and dissolute. He had stood at the door, waiting with a grin and our bags already packed.
"Bella?" He asked her gently, his enthusiasm dieing at the look on her face, the way she held herself. "What's wrong?"
She didn't respond, just stared at him with sad, watery eyes. And he knew, a feeling in the pit of his stomach let him know, that something was terribly wrong. She was leaving him.
The pain hit, hard and swift. He closed his eyes, unable to look at the truth before him. "Why?" His voice was ragged, rough from his pain.
She still said nothing, just shrugged and waked around him, heading for the bedroom. He followed her slowly and stood in the doorway, watching her pack. The small black dress she was wearing was the one he'd gotten her for their first anniversary three years ago.
"He's always there and never stops giving." She whispered, her hands holding his old AC/DC t-shirt she wore around the apartment to her chest.
He looked at her, startled. "What?" His voice was hoarse, his eyes wide. The knife just dug deeper and deeper, the pain almost numbing now.
She was leaving him for someone else.
"He's wonderful, Jacob." Bella pleaded, turning tear filled eyes to his own pain stricken ones. "He always listens and always has time for me. He never pushed me aside."
Jacob just stared at her, disbelief crowding his mind, he could feel the ice covering his heart, the pain turning to numbness.
He just didn't care anymore.
"Whatever." He shrugged, walking away from her sobs.
His shirt was lying in a heap at her feet. In her hands was the engagement ring.
He sat down on the couch in the living room and turned on the stereo, blasting the Killers.
He laid his head back, closing his eyes, and he could see them.
Bella and her unnamed man, although her was pretty sure he knew who it was. Edward Mason, the brother of her best friend, Alice.
The bastard's hands on her, taking off the dress. Jacob slammed his head against the coffee table and stayed there.
He didn't move a muscle when he heard her shocked and pained gasp.
As far as he was concerned at the moment, she didn't matter.
That was the last day he saw her.
Jacob threw back his head and laughed cruelly. At himself, at the poor fool who took her, at life in general.
"Mr. Brightside" by the Killers was playing through the stereo, Jacob laughed harder at the irony of it all.
The Killers had it right when they made this song, but they got one thing wrong. Jacob was Mr. Brightside. And his life had gone to Hell when she walked out that door.
But that was the way he liked it.